


Bonsoir

by raven_aorla



Series: Time Out of Mind [5]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically Standalone Fic, Communication Culture, Cuddles, Duringcare, Enthusiastic Consent, Everything is beautiful and only the requested things hurt, F/M, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, excellent BDSM etiquette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:58:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lafayette and Adrienne enjoy a bit of co-domming and a beloved house guest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> \- URL of Departure Days chapter this spawned from:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/6391372/chapters/14942107
> 
> \- The "gag reflex diversity 2k16" tag is taken from a comment left by OscarthegrouchILOVETRASH

"Did you put your things away like I told you?" Lafayette asked. He wasn't quite using his Dom voice yet, but there was a definite solidity to it that made Pierre's pupils dilate. Pierre was adorably easy to wind up. They were speaking French, which they usually did because only one of them had become fluent in English young enough to speak it effortlessly. The exceptions were with terms related to kink and communication culture (Pierre only knew the English versions), and when Pierre was pleasantly overwhelmed and stopped keeping track. 

Pierre nodded and glanced towards the kitchen. "Does Adrienne need help? She barely said hello before running off to deal with some burner or other."

"Sit." Lafayette gestured at the appropriate dining room chair. He didn't bother hiding his smile at the affirmative chirp Pierre made while following the order. "The best help you can be is pleasing her thoroughly tonight, understand?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Marquis."

Now their masks were on (or possibly off), and the Marquis' smile had more teeth in it. Adrienne/the Marquise and Pierre/their toy tended to sink deeply into their roles. Adrienne didn't get to do that when she was the only one in control, which had been among the reasons they went looking for someone to join them. Lafayette was happy to be the one who slipped in and out of that mental zone and stayed at the helm, so to speak. He had plenty of other opportunities, on other nights, to fully let go of his real self.

Not to say he didn't love giving orders. "Good. Sit absolutely still until one of us has a moment to tie your hands behind the back of the chair. We adore you, but we have other demands on our time."

Lafayette entered the kitchen and greeted his wife more properly than their earlier hurried shouts. They updated each other on the logistics of tonight and tomorrow's activities. Then he took over setting the table in a mundane fashion. As Adrienne said, there were sexy ways to do basic chores but they were rarely efficient.

Purely verbal bondage took their toy a lot of willpower and didn't give him that sense of security physical bondage did. So they never left him to it for more than five minutes or so. After four minutes his eyes were squeezed shut in concentration. The Marquise brought mercy in the form of a short length of black cotton rope and a kiss to his temple. She was the most skilled person present when it came to comfortable, yet incapacitating, quick-release knots.

Lafayette felt one of the few disadvantages of being a switch was never having time to develop as much expertise. Ah well. Hard to complain about getting to see the Marquise do things to someone else that she sometimes did to him. And getting to help, besides.

"Thank you, Marquise," their toy sighed, settling against the backrest. 

If Pierre chose to have dinner be part of a scene, rather than the prologue, he wasn't allowed to join in on the conversation. As throughout any scene, he could speak when spoken to and express needs and gratitude.

Or apology, as necessary. Like when the Marquise paused in her description of her new coworker's many defects to say, "Chew more slowly, sweet thing. This meal will end when we say it will, and meanwhile we don't want you choking." It was understood that "we" didn't include their toy - for that they'd say "we and you".

"Also we want you to appreciate what you're eating. She worked hard on this."

Their toy slowly chewed and swallowed. "I'm sorry, Marquise. And Marquis."

"Forgiven." The Marquis readied another forkful. "Open."


	2. Clean, Pretty, Beaten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOODBYE ANDREW JACKSON HELLO HARRIET TUBMAN
> 
> (for those of you who don't know, it's been announced that Hamilton will stay on the $10 bill and it's the $20 that'll change, and a fab change too)

Lafayette cleaned up after dinner as fast as he could without breaking any dishes or leaving anything unacceptably dirty. When he reached the bathroom, he saw the Marquise had placed their naked toy in the bathtub and was rubbing a soapy sponge over his skin. 

"Ah, it's good you're here. Hold our toy's wrists together above his head, please; he keeps trying to use his hands despite my express instructions."

"Together, express instructions." Their toy sighed at having to tic, but no longer tensed like he used to before fully internalizing that he wasn't being bad when his Tourette's forced him to echo. There was more than one reason why he liked being gagged.

The Marquis wrapped a hand around both fine-boned wrists and held them up out of his partner's way. He spared a moment of appreciation for the inner-forearm tattoo of the French and Vietnamese flags crossing, "la indulgence" underneath. There was also a North American mockingbird adorning a shoulder blade, with its Latin name _Mimus polyglottos_. The final tattoo was "speechless" in cursive, very high up on an inner thigh. 

"Thank you." The Marquise re-wet the sponge in the nearby bowl and resumed her careful work. There were more efficient ways to do this, of course, but they weren't as sexy.

Their toy squirmed. "The water's so cold." Both of their gazes flew to his hands. One hand was making the OK sign. This meant it wasn't a genuine complaint, just him being pouty in hopes of firmer handling and being overruled.

The Marquis put his free hand on the back of their toy's neck and squeezed a little. "We don't want you getting too cozy and drowsy before we've had our fun. Besides, you look rather darling like this, all bare and bedraggled while we're comfortably, casually dressed. Subject to our whims." 

At the same time, the Marquise tweaked their toy's navel stud. The combination of the sensation and the words made him squeak and twitch. She grinned. "We'll be finished with this soon."

(Lafayette was impressed that as a 19-year-old, Pierre had already managed to get these body modifications done and well-healed. It was a privilege to see all of them at once. Even more of a privilege to touch them.)

They were sure to towel dry him thoroughly. Some tickling may have been involved. Lafayette stayed behind to quickly clean _himself_ up. Unlike Adrienne, he hadn't had time to shower before dinner, or to brush his teeth after. 

When it was the two of them simply falling into bed (or sofa, or on a soft rug, or in a tent in the garden after dark, or...) they didn't do all this preparation. It was different with a guest. It was also different when they were indulging in kink. Rituals were the bedrock of their BDSM. The Marquise often had "Yves" kneel as they showered together, she in charge of at least some washing occurring and he in charge of distracting her from that goal.

When he joined the others in the bedroom, in front of the vanity, the Marquise was rifling through her cosmetics drawer. "I forgot the new lipstick requires a clear gloss on top...where's the gloss...be a gentleman and fetch the corset, please."

Their toy was perched cheerfully on a stool with his hands cuffed behind his back. He looked up and fluttered his eyelashes. "The Marquise has good taste in eyeshadow and eyeliner, does she not, Marquis?" That fell under acceptable-speech umbrella of "expressing gratitude", charmingly so.

"Indeed she does. Subtle and gracefully understated, unlike most things I do." 

Their toy giggled for a second.

They were always tidy with their toys, living or inanimate, so it took little time to locate the item. It was an underbust, midnight blue with silver lacing and accents. They'd had it modified so that either side of the narrowest point of the waist had a stainless steel "D" ring sewn on.

Now the Marquise had one hand holding their toy's chin steady as she turned his lips a sweet, innocent-looking pink. After that she applied the aforementioned gloss. To test her handiwork, she kissed their toy fiercely, knocking air out of his lungs and pushing her tongue in his mouth. Then she abruptly pulled away and checked in the mirror. "No transfer. Very good. Hand me the corset and you try."

The second trial proved equally successful. They got their toy to his feet and began the process of straps and buckles necessary to get the beautiful piece of lingerie on. 

"I will, however, miss this." The Marquis briefly abandoned his work to crouch down and nibble at the navel jewelry.

"You're making him gasp."

"Excellent! I believe that is the point of this whole process, correct?"

"He needs to gasp in precisely the right way at the right moment. Get back up here and help me."

The Marquis patted the tummy farewell. "At least this type of corset still allows us to play with your nipples."

The final bit of lacing required a lot of checks and error. They and he wanted it tight enough to be a constant presence, but not to restrict breathing any more than a firm hug would. 

"Last time," the Marquise said. "Take a deep breath and softly hum a single note as long as you can. Like this: hmmmmmm...."

"Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm-mmm-mm-m...?"

"Good. Any complex requests? Comments?"

Their toy shook his head.

The Marquis, standing behind him, said, "That means we only need to hear safewords and incoherent noises. Open." Their toy provided a second, satisfied-sounding lengthy hum as the Marquise buckled the ball gag around the back of his head.

"The last time I had a bath rather than showering, I touched myself while imagining how he looks now." The Marquise ushered him over to the bed. She took a cross-legged seat near the edge, on top of the covers.

"I wonder how his new prospective playmate will react at lunch tomorrow if I leave a photo of this pretty sight at his place at the table. Especially if our toy is sitting across from him." The Marquis guided their toy to standing with feet shoulder-width apart, bent over with his head and neck cradled in the Marquise's lap and arms. After a moment's consideration, he slid a pillow where their toy's torso could rest upon it. 

"You're not going to strike as many times as usual," the Marquise reminded him. "A lot of time in a car tomorrow, as well as time with someone who might enjoy doing his own impact play."

"That is correct." He fetched the hard rubber cane from its place in the back of the closet. "Ready?"

The OK signal. So he began.

As Yves, Lafayette didn't enjoy being hit, only scratched/bitten/bruised. But these muffled cries sounded like revelations. Once, only once, their toy had managed to come merely from a good beating. It always brought his cock to attention, though, and the Marquis' tended to also. Out of solidarity. Fraternite.

Then the Marquise said, "Halt!"

In much of his sport fencing experience, this exclamation brought everything to a standstill, usually for safety. She knew this and sometimes used it to get him to freeze for an important reason. Not just kink; once he'd been about to knock over a delicate antique teapot. 

"You couldn't hear his general gagged signal," she explained while taking out out their toy's gag. "Only said it once, so it's probably not - there we are. Color?"

"Yellow. Sorry. Today I need to know how many more times, Marquis, please. Usually I don't, but for some reason I need to know." Their toy pillowed his head on the Marquise's thigh.

The Marquis spoke gently and rested a hand on the silky cloth covering the small of the toy's back. "Seventeen more. Would you like me to be consistent in force or timing? Or for me to count aloud?"

"I like it when you vary it, Marquis, thank you. But please count the strokes. This time."

The Marquise kissed his forehead and petted his hair. "No need to apologize. We always want to hear your needs. If it helps you to hear that we forgive you, however, we forgive you."

"Thank you. Both of you. Please go back to hitting, Marquis, you excel at it."

The Marquise took slightly longer to get the gag in than usual, because she (and the other two) were laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mimus polyglottos = many-tongued mimic
> 
> This is entirely unrelated to Pierre's motivations or to my tattoo reasoning, but did you know that the historical TJeffs had a pet mockingbird? I made a tiny vague reference to it in Sharps Hour, but still. It was one of the few living beings he could stand when he had a migraine.


	3. Exploited and Cherished

After beating their toy, the Marquis was always sure to praise how brave and beautiful he was, while also checking to see if any skin had accidentally been broken. That had never happened so far, but it was important to check, and helped their toy's self-image stay at the intersection of exploited and cherished.

All was well, physically and mentally. They reminded their toy that this was a convenient time for a toilet break. Tonight he chose to stay put. 

The Marquise looked at the bottom-and-thigh marks herself. "Well done as usual. Put the cane away. You always forget if you don't do it immediately, and I don't want to trip over it later."

They maneuvered their toy into lying on his back in the center of the bed, handcuffed to the headboard. The Marquis took out the gag and placed it in a waiting container on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

"Lafayette, uh..." Addressing either of them by name was Pierre's way of indicating that he wasn't necessarily distressed but wanted to step out of their roles for a moment. Switching entirely to English further emphasized the distinction. "I know I wasn't bad for yellow-ing earlier, but I feel weird about it. I don't know why the lack of counting was bothering me."

Issues regarding subspace and sub etiquette always went to Lafayette. Adrienne could sympathize with them, but not empathize. She made a "go on" gesture at her husband and took the opportunity to start undressing.

"It's fine not to know why something is upsetting you, Pierre." Lafayette slipped out of his _Asterix_ t-shirt and lay down next to his friend, draping an arm over his waist. "Last time I subbed, she told me I was disrespectful to authority and ordered me to kneel in a corner facing the wall until told otherwise. After about twenty seconds I safeworded. We never figured out why I felt so distressed. Like I was imprisoned or in exile or something. And unlike you I don't even need anxiety medication."

Newly nude Adrienne curled around Pierre's other side, her many braids fanning out behind her. "I once safeworded, as the Marquise, while fucking him with a strap-on. Which I normally love."

"We love," Lafayette corrected.

"Yes, yes, of course. I think I was stressed about an unrelated thing, but the point is that it doesn't matter. If we aren't all enjoying ourselves, it's as if nobody is." Adrienne brushed three fingers across Pierre's cheek.

The tension seeped out of him, and he switched back not only to French but also the dreamy, slower cadence of his other self. "Thank you, Marquis. Thank you, Marquise."

"You are very welcome, precious thing." The Marquis set himself upon the task of sucking a bruise just below their toy's collarbone. 

The two of them traded off on who was occupying their toy's mouth with deep kisses and who was roaming around the rest of him. Hands were equal opportunity travelers, though pinches and tickles were special favorites. 

No matter how he whined, the toy never got more than a light, incidental touch to his erection during this stage. Some nights the Marquise rode him, but she was sure to employ her arcane bondage skills to ensure he couldn't possibly come without permission. He was allowed to come untouched at any time. In fact, such a thing was considered a great triumph for all. To come with anything touching his cock, however, had to wait until the very end of a scene.

(Lafayette enjoyed being penetrated, but couldn't seem to learn how to actually sit and move on any form of phallus without falling over. Meanwhile Pierre only enjoyed fucking face-to-face except when doing types of roleplay Lafayette and Adrienne had no interest in. He also didn't like being untied while having sex with a man, which made the notion of him on top loop right back to the same "falling over" problem. Regardless of her anatomy, Pierre was fine with having non-bondage penetrative sex with a woman, because then he didn't set as much of a premium on wanting to feel helpless. Nonbinary people were case-by-case.)

"You're nicely marked up. Ready to earn your keep?" The Marquise reached for the handcuffs.

"Yes, Marquise."

She unclasped the cuffs from the headboard and one other, but left them separate on his wrists. "Forearms and knees. Hold position." She reached under the bed produced the two specially measured lengths of short rope from previous occasions. 

The Marquis helped their toy pose properly and maintain balance as his partner tied each one end of a rope to the corset's left D ring, and the other end snugly around the D ring on the left cuff. She repeated the process on the right. This way their toy had sufficient range of motion to hold himself up and spread the Marquise's folds as necessary, but not do much else.

Soon she was enthroned, her back supported by pillows propped up against the headboard, with an eager mouth between her legs. Their toy had learned over time the sorts of things she liked from him, but she still gave him the occasional instruction and kept a grip on his hair for steering and encouragement. She wasn't one for providing dirty talk. She wasn't loud in pleasure. But she was certainly vocal, with her sighs and moans, her beginnings of words that trailed off into nothing - to the point where the Marquis nearly forgot what he was supposed to be doing.

Ah yes. He took off his remaining clothes. His erection would settle for freedom if it couldn't have satisfaction yet. He put a disposable latex glove on his right hand and squeezed some lube onto the tip of his index finger. Then he approached the lovely ass that was all blue-and-purple-streaked from his earlier efforts. "Darling object of our affections, what color for me opening you up this very moment?"

The Marquise permitted their toy to lift his head long enough to say, "Green!"

She quickly pushed him back into place. "Focus."

"I'll be kind and pause from time to time if you lose your train of thought." The Marquis had empathy, after all.


	4. At Least As Thoroughly

"Take your fingers out of him. I need to take the reins." 

Knowing what that meant, the Marquis obliged so fast that their toy made a startled and mournful noise about this development. From two deep fingers to nothing in an instant. He caressed their toy's inner-thigh tattoo with his ungloved hand. "Shh, it's alright, I'm just pausing so she can get more of you."

The Marquise was always authoritative with her devotees. But when she was about to come, she reached new heights. She leaned forward to cup the back of their toy's neck as well as maintaining the fist around his hair. Her legs were trembling but her voice had gone steady. Absolute. 

"Unless it's to safeword, you skillful little thing, don't you dare stop. Don't you dare slow your pace or change what you're doing. If I could, I'd fuck your pretty face every day. Pressing it into my lap or sitting on it. Whenever I wanted and for however long. Don't fucking stop."

Their toy managed to produce a drawn-out moan at that. Lafayette, persona lost for a moment, only managed to sort of gurgle. Despite his mouth being free and he not currently being involved. 

"That's it, that's, mm -" She didn't get any louder, but her voice abandoned words. Her hips subtly jerked upwards. Her face shifted from ecstasy to serenity.

When she lay back, boneless, she released their toy from her grip and he gently crumpled sideways. She waved her husband over. The Marquis discarded his glove and undid the ropes keeping their toy's arms in position, reattaching the cuffs to each other in front of his stomach. "How are you feeling?"

Their toy cleared his throat. "Grateful....Accomplished? Thirsty. Please, please, um, use me at least as...thoroughly, Marquis." 

The Marquise moved herself so that she could give their toy a chaste kiss on the lips, which he smiled into. "Water or juice? We have pineapple juice." That was his favorite.

"The second, please, Marquise." He unconsciously reached for her as she left his side. She walked out of the room naked and unashamed.

"You look so forlorn! I won't leave you unoccupied, don't worry. Scoot up a bit so I can connect you to the headboard again. Yes. Good. Reach upwards...like that. Done. I've already spent some time stretching you, but I'm going to spend a little more. Don't make faces. That's not negotiable. Besides, I like watching your expressions." New glove, more lubricant. "Spread your legs, precious thing."

Soon the Marquise returned, now in a soft purple robe, a glass of juice with a straw in one hand and a bag of Cheetos in the other. She placed the Cheetos on the cushy armchair in the corner. Then standing by the bed, she held the glass and lifted the toy's head in such a way that he could easily drink from the straw. When he finished she asked, "Color for gag?"

"Green."

With their toy unable to talk and the Marquise occupied with voyeurism and junk food, the Marquis could have his moment in the spotlight. Specifically, his commentary. He liked commentating. "Your poor cock is straining for attention, I see. I'm afraid mine is too. It takes precedence." He scraped a single bare fingernail along the length of the toy's.

Their toy whimpered. This soon turned into a stifled yelp as the fingers inside him suddenly rubbed against his prostate.

"I've imagined both of us taking advantage of your at the same time, you know. We'd have to train you to maintain the same standards of quality with - oh, did that tickle? - your mouth as the Marquise expects, but that wouldn't be a hardship. If I thrusted hard enough, the leverage and counterbalancing might even improve your performance. Definitely if we could get you to keen with the overstimulation. I'd really love to put a condom on and slide into you now. May I?"

OK sign. Nod. Impatient groan.

Oh, it was good. God, it was good. Lafayette hadn't been deprived of pleasure for any significant amount of time recently, but he always forgot how sensuous, how expansive, he felt as _The Marquis_ with _their toy_ willingly helpless and writhing underneath him. 

Acting as the literal Marquis de Lafayette in the real world was more stressful than it was anything else. He was aware and appreciative that the accompanying wealth had made his life exponentially easier than billions of people's, and Alexander was good at reminding him. It was the title itself. There was that weight of history and legacy. There was worrying about after he could no longer use his education as an excuse to stay abroad and would have to return and take full responsibility for all the legal and financial issues (apparently he couldn't simply give the majority of the fortune to charity and his friends en masse, then run away). Then of course there was: "How are you a Marquis? You're black."

Here it was simple. Two people he loved dearly, though in very different ways, chose to call him a particular thing. Further mutual choices led him to moments like this.

He couldn't kiss their toy properly on the mouth with the gag in the way, but he made up for it with the neck. The chest. The jawline. The hollow of his throat. 

"Your hair is absolutely ruined with sweat and it's glorious. Thank you for letting me bury myself in you. I'm so glad we found you. Thank you for moving in tandem with my hips even when I'm being so cruel and neither touching you where you crave it, nor letting you touch it either. Thank you for squeezing around me like, like you're welcoming me home. Shit, I'm not going to last very long, but - there's been a lot of anticipation? And I don't think anyone here....minds...you're so pretty, our sweet precious thing, so trusting, and now I want...I can...I'm going to..."

The Marquis was conscientious enough to knot and discard the condom and ungag their toy before collapsing, curling around him like his secret non-sexual function was being a teddy bear. Their toy's mouth was now free, but for a moment all he did was pant with exertion and emotion.

The Marquise appeared and kissed both their toy and the Marquis. "You've been a very hardworking and patient toy tonight. You can declare your tasks finished right now, and I'll help you come with my hands. Or. You can let me climb onto you and give me my third orgasm. Then you'll get the Marquis' mouth on you, which we know you love even more."

"Second option," the toy said immediately.

"Wait, third?" Lafayette asked.

"Watching you two was very inspiring."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided the aftercare deserves its own chapter, so this is a 6-chapters-projected fic now.


	5. Care and Feeding of Subs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Lafayette briefly contemplating his and Pierre's experiences with a specific stereotype - Lafayette is heteromantic but very good at performing fellatio, while Pierre is homoromantic but has a prohibitively sensitive gag reflex. There is mention of Pierre having been shamed for it and pushing himself too hard.

The Marquise climbed on. Assertive yet gentle. Since their toy couldn't use his hands for the moment, she helped by parting the dark thatch of hair and curves of skin in the way of his tongue. The Marquis didn't feel equal to sitting up quite yet. Instead he angled his head so he could watch this third act.

After previous little deaths in quick succession, it didn't take much time or effort to tip the Marquise into another one. She also ground herself forward in a steady rhythm. Enough to do some of the work for their toy without overwhelming him.

They were both rather tired and nearly silent compared to earlier. Lafayette considered it as much poetry as pornography. When they were finished he wrapped his arms around both of them, awash with emotion.

Then their toy politely cleared his throat.

"Oh! Right! I have a promise to keep!"

The Marquise laughed softly and detached the handcuffs from the bed, though she left them attached to each other. "Color for doing this with you sitting up? I'd like to cradle you from behind and watch him work."

"Greenest of green."

"You don't have to talk, though you may if you wish, but we would like to hear you."

"Understood, Marquise."

For the climax (haha), their toy nestled himself with his back to the Marquise's naked breasts, his head leaning a little to the side and supported by her shoulder. She devoted one arm to keeping him upright and her free hand to caresses that pushed him further into quiet desperation. Now he didn't have a task to distract him from his desire.

"It's hard to put a condom on you when you keep wriggling," the Marquis said. Their toy made an adorable sound of frustration but held still so he could finish the safety measure. 

Finally Marquis wrapped his lips around their toy's erection and slowly slid all the way down. Their toy let out a sob, then preemptively announced, "Green. It's just...it's so good..."

" _You_ are so good. You deserve good things." The Marquise petted his hair.

When they'd first met him, Pierre had told them about his extremely sensitive gag reflex like it was a shameful weakness. The media assumed that a young man who liked having sex with men (among others), and who fell in love with men, should also love sucking cock. Worse, one of Pierre's exes had entreated with him to try training himself out of this "defect", resulting in him actually throwing up in-scene. (Lafayette obtained that ex's mailing address and took childish pleasure in signing him up for massive amounts of junk mail.)

It took a distressing amount of reassurance before Pierre believed they didn't mind at all. It took even more before he was willing to accept oral sex from the Marquis. There were toxic ideas in parts of the BDSM subculture that certain forms of pleasuring were inherently submissive. And skepticism in the larger culture that a bisexual man who excels at fellatio could be exclusively heteromantic. Could be in romantic love with his wife and no other.

None of those people and ideas and memories belonged here now, though. Here and now, he was making their toy babble in three languages:

"Oh, you're [Vietnamese words] thank you, fuck, oh god, you're taking care of me and I [Vietnamese] how are you both so sexy and dominant but also so caring and warm and [Vietnamese...maybe?] ngggggg...Marquis how did you learn to be so amazing at this, Jesus, Buddha, whatever whoever, verisimilitude - sorry, that one was a (omigodomigod) tic - [Vietnamese, probably]...verisimilitude...[definitely not Vietnamese, French, or English]."

Afterwards, Lafayette and Adrienne got the handcuffs and corset off, and Adrienne rolled out of bed and pulled on her robe. "I'll get the makeup remover. Then we all need a shower, okay boys? No falling asleep without a shower and Pierre's medication."

"Yes ma'am," Pierre murmured, tugging at Lafayette's limbs so Pierre could be the "little spoon", as the endearing idiom went.

"You impressed me with your eloquence, Mr. Pierre Nguyen Etienne. Also your name is full of assonance."

"You're embellishing my eloquence. One of my high school English teachers used my full name to explain assonance, actually."

"What is 'assonance'?" Adrienne asked, out of their line of sight.

"I never learned the French word, but it's when the vowel sounds roughly rhyme but the whole word doesn't really. In my case "eeeee-eh". Diphthong. Verisimilitude. Dammit."

"Your tics bother you far more than they bother us, I hope you know." Lafayette kissed Pierre's mockingbird tattoo. He liked furtive symbolism.

Pierre grumbled. "I'm glad to hear that. Remember what you said if my echopraxia kicks in and I have to copy your movements."

"Your love of being tied up has its practical side." Adrienne returned with a pack of special wipes. "Sit up. Normal soap and water won't work with what I used on you."

Normal soap and water were highly recommended for other things, though, and soon they all packed into the shower. None of them liked being alone for more than a minute or two immediately after a scene. 

"I genuinely want to know how you learned to give good blowjobs, since you've been dating Adrienne since you were fourteen and you said I'm the only threesome partner you two have ever had," Pierre said while helping Lafayette scrub his back. 

Adrienne was doing something mysterious but apparently vital to the sole of her right foot with a pumice stone. Lafayette was ready to catch her if she slipped, even though she was much better at standing on one foot than he was. She giggled at Pierre's question but didn't volunteer an answer.

Lafayette swiveled to return the favor. "Hello, Pierre's mockingbird, I hope you like shower gel."

"You are such a dork," Adrienne said.

"I spent time with George and Martha Washington as my host family before I decided I wanted to go to college here, and later Adrienne joined me. As you know, Alexander Hamilton was their foster teen..."

"Seriously?"

"There were some video chats with Adrienne first. They were a pleasant few moments between friends. We stopped when we stopped living in the same house. We regret nothing. Now you reap the benefits. Maybe you should thank him the next time you hang out together." 

Pierre threw up his hands. "This is apparently my life. It's unreal."

"Are you saying it lacks verisimilitude?" Adrienne asked, giggling again as she stepped out of the shower.

"Don't you start. Hey, do you have any super unhealthy food I can take my meds with?"

"Yes. Why are your non-echolalic verbal tics usually English nouns?"

"You're not allowed to ask me a much harder question than the one I asked you."

"Touche." She used the Wonder Woman novelty beach towel to dry herself. Lafayette always used the one featuring the Howling Commandos from the Captain America films, and he'd embroidered hearts around Dernier. They let Pierre use the Abe Sapien one so he would be neither DC nor Marvel.

Lafayette spun Pierre around and kissed him again, because he could. "Let's not 'dilly-dally', then."

"Native English speakers rarely say 'dilly-dally' anymore, Laf."

"They should. Do you want to wear one of my Tintin shirts or my prized Persepolis shirt?"

Adrienne slipped on a silky blue nightgown before putting the robe on again. "We saw the film and then he got all upset that the local bookstore only carried the English translation of the graphic novels and he had to wait for delivery."

"That's the one by the immigrant writing about her experiences as a girl and young woman during the Iranian revolution, right?" Pierre reached past Lafayette to turn off the water. "Gimme. Shirt and book."

"Shirt, yes. You may borrow the books tomorrow. We want you to get some sleep." Lafayette got out of the shower and tried to kiss Adrienne too, but she gestured at his naked dripping-ness.

In the kitchen a few minutes later, Pierre perched on a countertop in Lafayette's shirt and a pair of his own boxer briefs, rattling a small pill holder like it was a castanet. Lafayette, leaning against the counter wearing only pajama pants, had one eye on the kettle and one eye on the toaster oven. Adrienne, in a ladylike pose in an actual chair, only had eyes for the toaster oven.

"You guys contain multitudes," Pierre commented.

"She insists on fresh, high quality ingredients in all our dining. Yet post-coital, all she wants are hideously processed, American -"

"Are you saying you don't want a toaster strudel, Gilbert?"

"I'm not saying that."

When it was time for bed, it became clear that Pierre had misplaced his travel toothbrush, but Adrienne had a spare ready. "I've acquired some experience in the care and feeding of subs," she joked.

The first time they'd all literally slept together, Pierre had been worried that he'd be like an unneeded extra jigsaw puzzle piece. He wasn't. More like an extra Lego piece. Lafayette said so as they arranged the blankets over the three of them.

"Just don't step on me in the middle of the night. Tragedy for all." Pierre burrowed into the pillows and surrounding limbs in a way that defied fully-awake geometry.

"If you two decide on some mutually consensual molestation in the middle of the night, that's fine, but if you wake me up I will throw you both out of bed. Sleep well, my darlings." Adrienne turned out the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needlessly detailed notes on ethnicity:
> 
> Doing research for something else today, I came across a 2005-era list of the most common French surnames. #52 was "Nguyen", which says some cool things about immigration, I think. Also I was pleased that I gave Pierre a plausible mother's-maiden-name-serving-as-middle-name before I stumbled on that list.
> 
> As mentioned in Sharps Hour, the reasons I made him part-Vietnamese:
> 
> 1\. I wanted more Asian or part-Asian characters  
> 2\. The historical Pierre Etienne du Ponceau spent the war as von Steuben's secretary/the-17-year-old-he-brought-with-him-wink-wink. Which is how he met Lafayette and became bffs. But in his postwar career as a linguist, he extensively studied both Chinese and Vietnamese. Also Native American languages. 
> 
> As also mentioned in Sharps Hour, these characters remain French-born. This version of Pierre was born Vietnamese-French (white father) but moved to America at age 7, Lafayette has one grandparent born in Senegal, and Adrienne's parents were both born in Senegal.


	6. Epilogue

"...and that's the story of last night, Mr. von Steuben," Lafayette concluded. "Why, Pierre, you've hardly touched your appetizers."

Pierre was blushing near-neon and had been sneaking looks at Friedrich during Lafayette's entire dramatic retelling. Complete with gestures. Friedrich had maintained an air of calm, almost academic interest, except for sometimes having to knock on the coffee table with the heel of his hand. Not to rush the pair, but Lafayette thought it very romantic that they had the same disorder and could truly understand each other.

Lafayette was conducting the first portion of this meeting partly because Adrienne didn't trust him meddling with the final stages of the dish they were having for lunch (he'd been allowed to chop vegetables earlier, and Pierre deboned the fish). The main reason, however, was that he'd already met Friedrich a few times, briefly, and could concentrate on details other than first impressions.

For example, Adrienne would not have realized that Friedrich's normal demeanor took up even more space psychologically than he did physically. He was a broad-shouldered, imposing man almost twenty years older than Pierre, prone to profane shouting and reminding Lafayette of every professor who'd ever pushed him to do better. 

If the professors had been allowed to say exactly what they thought, and much of what they thought was righteous anger, of course. His personal favorite was hearing Friedrich roar, _"What the absolute fuck did you say, George 'inbred git' King? Did you decide to repurpose your mouth as a spigot for homophobic horseshit?_

Yet with Pierre, and especially when seeking approval from Pierre's friends..."I like these miniature quiches. Have you tried them, little gecko?" He placed one in the palm of Pierre's outstretched hand, like he was giving a coin to an old-fashioned fortuneteller.

"Adrienne and I go on a pilgrimage to the nearest Trader Joe's - it's sadly in Alexandria because they don't go further south in this state than NoVA - every two or three months. They sell those mini quiches frozen. It's a miracle and a blessing." 

Friedrich chuckled. "I assume you gave me an impressively detailed - VORACIOUS - account of your..."

"Sexcapades," Pierre suggested offhand, distracted by the improbable amount of crumbs he'd gotten on his black button-up shirt.

"Yes, thank you. You gave me that account not only to get me a little hot under my collar and overcome Pierre with pleased embarrassment. You want to give me some idea of how you three do things. Which I appreciate."

"Friedrich and I have this idea -"

But Pierre was cut off by Adrienne calling them into the dining room, and Friedrich suggested that this mysterious idea was better for after dinner anyway. Upon taking his seat, he said, "This looks delicious. Rather like paella."

Adrienne smiled and took a seat across from Pierre while Lafayette sat down across from Friedrich, the better to continue studying him. She offered Friedrich the big serving spoon. "I think every culture that has rice has a 'cook things with the rice and use enough spices to avoid the perception of you simply using up leftovers' recipe. This is named 'ceebu jen' in Wolof, or 'thieboudienne' in French. Unless you wish to being obvious and call it 'riz au poisson.'"

Pierre laughed. "Oh, I wonder what's in that?"

"There's a dish in the American South called 'Savannah red rice' that probably originate' from slaves brought from West Africa...sorry, I'm working on a paper about how needs of agriculture affected the transatlantic slave trade as part of my program of work and studying...I mean my paper is part, not the slave trade." Adrienne scooped her own portion with unnecessary force. "Pardon me. Gilbert has been longer here in America."

"We don't all have to speak English if you'd rather not. My French comprehension is adequate, though I admit I only studied it because my American mother made sure I could speak both English and German by age four. Also this is very good."

"Thank you. I will perhaps slip into French when words escape me. This particular version, I confess, could also be named 'Adrienne Forgot the Cassava'."

Lafayette joked, "You shouldn't have told them that, Adri! They don't know what it's supposed to taste like!"

They talked about the rumors that Andrew Jackson might run for the Republican presidential nomination, and the conventional wisdom that Eleanor Roosevelt and Harriet Tubman were the Democratic favorites. Friedrich thought Eleanor would suffer from being in her ex-president husband's shadow, and thought Tubman had a better shot at beating Jackson than most people thought. Pierre said something about voter decisions regarding the Roosevelts "turning on a dime", which was an idiom he and Friedrich had to explain to the other two. Adrienne brought up the incident during Franklin Roosevelt's presidency when Jackson made some ableist comments in a speech...four days before Roosevelt 'came out' as having distal muscular dystrophy.

Pierre eagerly told everyone that he'd read about one and a half of Friedrich's books since he last saw him, and that "A High-Volume on the Origins of the Drill Sergeant" was super entertaining. "I started 'From Prussia, to Pink Triangles, to Pride: A Queer History of Berlin', but then it got to the Holocaust."

"You don't have to read all of it. Also, I last saw you less than two weeks ago."

"I want to read all of it eventually. I just have to alternate with videos of baby sloths until I make it through that chapter. And hey, I had some downtime. Lafayette helped me get ahold of nice copies."

Lafayette noticed Friedrich putting his hand on Pierre's thigh under the table, rubbing light circles with his thumb. He let the conversation continue along conventional lines. He didn't draw attention to it.

When they got to dessert - petit fours Lafayette had decorated to look like postage stamps - it was time to get serious. Though he let everyone finish cooing at the cute cakes first. 

"Mr. von Steuben?"

The petit four was very petite between Friedrich's large fingers as they paused halfway towards his mouth. "When you use that tone, it really reminds a person that 'Marquis' isn't just your Dom title."

"What is the maximum safe tightness of any form of bondage?"

Friedrich nodded briefly, understanding. "You should still be able to slip a finger between the bonds and the person's body."

"Under what circumstances is it excusable to leave a bound person unattended?"

"None."

"Maybe if someone had a gun to your head," Pierre whispered.

"Let's say 'voluntarily leave', little gecko."

"Kay."

Adrienne put her chin in her hands and asked, in French, "Under what circumstances is consent not informed consent?"

"If you are withholding relevant information, anyone is intoxicated or otherwise in an altered mental or emotional state, or if they are not of sound mind or judgment regardless of any substances."

"What should you always have in reach during a scene that includes bondage?" Lafayette hadn't eaten his petit four yet, wanting to stay dignified and aloof for a minute or two longer.

"Safety shears or something similar, to get them out in a hurry in an emergency."

Pierre turned sideways to face Friedrich. "What do you do if you, you personally, get mad or frustrated during a scene?"

Friedrich held out his hand and waited for Pierre to join it with one of his. "I stop and calmly say so. We figure it out from there as lovers. As equals."

Now it was Pierre's turn to nod with understanding. He turned back to Adrienne and Lafayette. "Friedrich and I have an idea. You've told him how you and I do things. How about we give you a glimpse of how he and I plan to do things?"

"Nothing elaborate. Copious dirty talk, tie his wrists with my belt, mostly undress him but leave his unbuttoned shirt on and open, stay clothed myself, mark him up a little, then jerk him off. I intend to make him come multiple times today, you see, and it's helpful to get a head start. Maybe the slightest hint of breathplay if we're feeling ambitious and the color is right."

Lafayette raised his eyebrows and nodded. Adrienne suggested a rug in the basement den as the stage.

The Marquis and Marquise had never played with their toy down there, nor the Marquise and her obedient Yves. But Lafayette and Adrienne had made love on that rug, and they'd cuddled Pierre on that rug, so they knew it was comfortable. There was a battered old sofa where they could sit and watch.

"Are you ready, my boy?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Baron."

(The audience quietly high-fived.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trader Joe's is a grocery store chain with really good food, especially frozen and premade food. NoVa = Northern Virginia, all the parts that function more as suburbs of DC rather than part of the rest of Virginia. 
> 
> Franklin Delano Roosevelt is on the U.S. dime, and had polio as an adult but was able to hide it for most of his career. Eleanor Roosevelt was pretty fab. No match for Tubman though.
> 
> Homosexuals in Nazi Germany had to a wear pink triangle sewn to clothing, like with Jews and the yellow star. 
> 
> Stay Safe, Sane, and Consensual, everyone. Remember negotiation and aftercare. Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
